


A Strong Hand

by Ulthar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bondage, Consent is Sexy, Foursome - F/M/M/M, I seem to have a thing for neck-biting, Multi, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Trans Male Character, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Bondage, Why?, abject smut, is taking people's arms off a kink?, sad super-soldier cuddle pile, sam wilson is trans, somebody might have a scar kink, why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulthar/pseuds/Ulthar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We have been compromised, you and I,” she said, her tone almost callous.  “Never forget that.”  The Winter Soldier shuddered.  With a click, his arm came off in her hand.  She dropped it behind the couch.</p><p>Herein is to be found a painstaking account of how Natasha ended up inadvertently domming everyone, all at once, to everyone's surprise.  And they all felt better for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Strong Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is trans and I describe him as having a clit, and use other conventionally female words for genetalia. I'm ftm and these are the words I use, but I know not everybody does. Know that no disrespect is intended, it's just that words are hard.

The four returned from their latest mission bone-tired but restless, still checking every shadow for threats.  They had made some significant progress in their secret war, but there was still too much to do.  There’s only so much two ex-soldiers, one not-pilot, and a (now freelance) spy can do in a day, however, and at some point even the biologically enhanced need a break.  So they filed back into cheap secret apartment no. 3, Steve and Sam vanishing out of sight, presumably to collapse.  Natasha, still to wired to sleep, wedged herself against the arm of the battered couch in the front room, staring at the blank wall and wishing they had a TV.  Bucky, last to enter and constantly looking over his shoulder, closed the door, took off the sweatshirt that stopped his metal arm from attracting attention, and stood in the hallway, looking, as usual, a bit lost.  Eventually, he padded over to where Natasha was sitting and slumped onto the floor, just barely leaning against her leg.  They sat like that, unmoving, for a good five minutes, before Nat broke down and started to play with Bucky’s hair.

He melted the instant she touched him, his shoulders relaxing for what seemed like the first time in weeks.  He leaned back and pushed, catlike, against her hands.  She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face and letting it fall, surprisingly soft, against his face and neck.  They had talked of getting it cut, back to World War II regulation length, as if by doing that they could turn back the clock, but they hadn’t had the chance.  Natasha liked it like this, anyway, though she hadn’t said so to Steve.  Her hand accidentally brushed Bucky’s ear, and then it was caressing the edge of his cheekbone, running along his jaw, resting—lightly, so lightly—against his collar bone, two fingers just barely inside the front of his sleeveless shirt.  She felt a muscle twitch.

Natasha leaned down until her lips were nearly touching his ear.  “You okay, Soldier?”

Bucky tensed at that, the plates of his prosthetic clicking softly as his hands turned to fists in his lap.  His voice was pleading, desperate.  “Why do you call me that?”

She laid her other hand on his chest as well, a gentle restraint.  Her voice was a careful, deadly purr.  “Because it’s true.  It will always be true, Winter Soldier.”

Natasha moved her left hand to brush the back of Bucky’s metal fist where it lay curled tight against his jeans.  She moved it slowly up his arm, feeling the cold steel, knowing the hideous strength of the mechanisms inside, the terrifying precision, and that the synthetic nerves registered her every touch more accurately than living tissue, though they could not feel pain.  She stopped where cold metal met hot skin, feeling the divide, finding the release catch at the shoulder.  She pressed, knowing it needed a mental command as well.

“We have been compromised, you and I,” she said, her tone almost callous.  “Never forget that.”  The Winter Soldier shuddered.  With a _click_ , his arm came off in her hand.  She dropped it behind the couch.

Natasha stood, then, one finger pressing lightly under his chin, bringing him up with her, obedient.  Standing, he was a head taller than she was.  She ran her hand down his throat, over his collar bone, down his chest, pacing a half-circle in front of him as she did so, her heart racing, feeling like some kind of matador.  He stood rigid, quivering.  When her hand brushed his hip bone, he let out a strangled, whimpering gasp.

Natasha took that as a cue.  Quick as a snake, she was behind him, pinning his remaining arm behind his back, curling one leg around his.  Her right hand slid just an inch under the waistband of his underwear, pulling him gently towards her.  She could feel his heartbeat in her palm where it rested on his stomach, could feel his ass pushing against her own belly.  His breathing was ragged, and he didn’t dare to move.  They both knew that if he tried to break away now, he would dislocate at least three joints.

That was when Natasha noticed Steve leaning in the doorway, open-mouthed and staring as she held his best friend between them like a combination lover and human shield.  Her mind raced.  With all her training, she really was not sure what one typically said in these situations.  The only coherent thing that came to her was not, in retrospect, probably the wisest thing to say.  She said it anyway.

“On your feet, commander!” she barked, in her best military officer voice, and then, to her complete astonishment, Steve snapped to attention, and then she nearly lost it, because—

The bastard _saluted_.

This was going to be _good_.

She relaxed her hold on Bucky and started to tug his shirt off over his head.  He stayed where he was, raising his arm over his head obediently.  “Look at him,” Natasha drawled.  “Pathetic,” she continued, running a hand down his bare chest, stopping to caress the chiseled oblique muscles that pointed maddeningly down into his pants which, Natasha noticed, were starting to look painfully tight in the crotch.  “He needs a firm hand,” she said at last, looking at Steve, still standing frozen in the doorway, transfixed.

With that, she slid her hand quickly down, finally reaching past his waistband, wrapping her fingers tight around his cock.  “But not yours, I fear,” Natasha mused as her captive gasped and struggled not to move.  Every time his hips bucked involuntarily against her hand, she gripped harder.  “You’re another military dog,” she said to Steve, whose ears had flushed bright red.  She could see his gaze flicking between her face, Bucky’s face, and the place where her hand was buried in Bucky’s pants.  “Just as lost without your master,” she murmured.  She caught his eyes and held them while she stroked Bucky’s throbbing dick once with her thumb.  Bucky cried out, finally, and stumbled, panting.  Natasha released him, then, and stepped back, putting her hands on her hips.

“Take off your pants,” she ordered.  Bucky looked at her, then at Steve, uncertain—maybe even apologetic.  “ _Now_ , Soldier,” she snapped, and Bucky startled into action, fumbling at the fly of his jeans with his one hand.  It obviously pained Steve to watch him struggle, but eventually he pulled them off and stood there in his underwear, looking sheepishly at Steve out from under his overgrown bangs.  He hesitated, then pulled down his boxers as well, finally standing stark naked and fully erect in front of the childhood friend he had only just met for the second time.  He looked defiant now, legs apart, every muscle in his body taught, straining with anticipation.

Natasha couldn’t help herself; she ran a finger down the muscles of his back, and when her hand was resting possessively on his ass, she leaned in conspiratorially.  “Do you want him?” she asked, nodding towards the man in the doorway, who was still frozen, panting, his shirt straining against his ludicrous chest every time he drew breath.  The desperation in the Soldier’s eyes told her everything, but she wanted to hear him say it.  “Do you want him to suck your cock?”

“Yes,” he finally said, his voice hoarse.

“Then tell him.”

 

Steve Rogers had no idea what was happening, and even less of an idea as to how in hell it had come about.  He only knew that the man who had been his best friend since childhood, who had been both his staunchest ally and his most dangerous enemy, was stripping naked at the behest of a Russian spy, and his own heart was threatening to beat out of his chest.  He felt light-headed.  He couldn’t be thinking straight.  He might even be seeing things.

He had seen Bucky naked plenty of times: when they had gone swimming in the summer as kids; in the war, when his men had all come back from combat dead tired and collapsed in various stages of undress.  It hadn’t been like this.

He had known Bucky was scarred.  Some were the remnants of scrapes he’d gotten into when they were young, mostly trying to protect Steve.  He had seen glimpses of the new ones in the past weeks, but never the full extent.  There were old bullet holes, silvery slash marks, huge shiny patches that were probably frostbite, and, of course, the mix of mangled skin and circuitry that used to hold an arm. 

He was beautiful.

Steve heard Natasha’s voice, as if from far away.  “Tell him.”

“Come here.”  The Winter Soldier’s voice was harsh, his eyes ravenous.  “Get on your knees.”

Steve’s heart was pounding, every inch of his body was telling him to do it, but there was a voice in his head pleading _No, not like this.  Don’t you understand, I’ve waited so long, not like this, please, Buck._

“Steve.”  Bucky’s voice softened, cracking slightly.  “I want you.  I’ve always wanted you.  Captain fucking America, get on your knees.”

Steve almost ran to him, then.  With clumsy, shaking hands, he reached out, feeling Bucky’s washboard abs, his narrow hips.  Trembling, he leaned forward and kissed him, once, reverently, just where his neck met his chest.  Bucky allowed him that, then placed a hand on his shoulder, firm but gentle, pushing him to the floor.

As the tip of Bucky’s cock touched his lips, his only coherent thought was _we are going to be kicked out of the army for this._

Then Natasha came up behind Bucky—pressing herself against his legs, his back, his naked ass—grabbed Steve by the hair and thrust Bucky’s full length down his throat herself.

* * *

 

Bucky’s mind was a blur.  Then again, it was usually a blur these days, but where it was normally a blur of amnesia interspersed with unbidden and unpleasant flashbacks, the memories that flooded him when Steve lips touched the base of his cock were anything but unpleasant.  Kneeling in front of him, Steve was sixteen again, scrawny and doe-eyed.  There was a stolen bottle of whiskey between them, and Steve was lying on his side, gazing over at him with what Bucky thought had to be “come hither” written all over his face, and yet he _couldn’t be sure couldn’t risk it couldn’t take the chance just reach out and_ touch _him—_

Then Steve was dancing with a girl Bucky had found, tripping over own his feet and making her laugh while he blushed to his ears, and Bucky was wishing he was her so he could sweep him of his feet entirely and carry him away, but he _couldn’t shouldn’t even think about it—_

And he was seeing Steve for the first time since leaving for the war, coming out of the darkness and smoke like some kind of goddamn angel, now half-carrying Bucky, and Bucky hadn’t been thinking straight then either, and it had taken him way too long to realize that Steve _hadn’t_ always been this tall, because he had certainly _acted_ like it, the reckless, beautiful idiot—

Bucky had been perpetually in the shadow of Captain America after that, but he hadn’t complained, because he had thought that was where he liked to be, where he belonged, but now, with the paragon of humanity at his feet, he wasn’t so sure it shouldn’t be the other way around, at least some of the time, America’s shining knight worshipping at the feet of its fallen son.  The thought gave him some perverse satisfaction as he gripped Steve’s shoulder to steady himself, weak at the knees but not willing to show it.  He gritted his teeth as Steve reached one hand up to grip his ass, as Natasha pressed up against him from behind, losing none of her dominatrix demeanor as she started to grind against his leg, thrusting with him as she pulled Steve’s head down again and again over his cock.  _Jesus Christ_ , if he’d know Steve could take a dick like this, he wouldn’t have wasted him on girls…

He was starting to realize his place here—adored but trapped, like a tiger on a leash.  Natasha licked his neck and dragged her fingernails down his spine; he shuddered and bucked against Steve’s lips.  Steve gagged, his throat closing on Bucky and sending a wave of pleasure through him, almost causing his legs to give out, but his master and slave only held him tighter.  When one of Steve’s fingers pressed against Bucky’s asshole, Bucky couldn’t hold on anymore, and lightning flashed behind his eyes as he came in Steve’s throat, and then Natasha let him fall, guiding him down into Steve’s arms.  As he lay there, panting, he gazed up at Steve.  The adoration in his eyes was hungry, and Bucky could feel him hard against his back.  Bucky smiled up at him, giddy, but as Steve’s eyes raked over his naked body, his heart began to beat harder and his body tensed, ready for Steve to take his turn.

* * *

 

Natasha laid Bucky down and took a moment to admire her handiwork, lolling on the floor like a postmodern take on neoclassical statuary.  Then she decided that Bucky was getting too much attention and started to unbutton her shirt, black and businesslike for her role in their earlier espionage.  She didn’t take it off, but let it hang open, enjoying the feeling of the fabric brushing loose against her skin, revealing her bra and smooth, taught stomach.

Steve was running his hand along Bucky’s chest and across his thigh, brushing lightly against his slowly softening dick in a way that made them both shudder, acting as if he was determined to touch every inch of him to make sure he was real.  Natasha managed to catch Steve’s eye, and the look of stunned awe didn’t leave his face when he looked up at her.  Then his head whipped around, and she was mortified to realize she hadn’t heard the other man approach.

Sam was in the doorway, staring open-mouthed, apparently speechless for the first time in his life.  He was shirtless, apparently having just come out of the shower.  Natasha only hesitated for a split second, then strode over to him, her heels clicking softly on the floor.  She walked in a way calculated to make her breasts bounce and her hips sway invitingly, but she kept her eyes cold.

She put a finger on Sam’s breastbone, between pectoral muscles that rivaled the Captain’s, and, looking into his eyes she was pleased to note that he didn’t seem sure whether she meant to invite him in or scold him mercilessly, so she let him fear her for a moment as she considered him.  At last, she ran her accusing finger down his chest, over his abs, hooking it into the waistband of his jeans and pulling him into the room with a look of stupid disbelief on his face.

She let him pull her shirt the rest of the way off as she led him, but a commanding look kept his hands from brushing more than briefly against her skin.  The fallen soldiers watched from the floor as she pushed Sam down onto the couch.  She stood over him with one knee on the cushion beside him, giving the guys behind her a good look at her ass, and started to unbutton his fly.

She had his pants half off before she started to suspect something wasn’t quite right.  When he was sitting in nothing but tight boxer-briefs and she couldn’t see even the beginning of an erection, she knew.  She should have seen it earlier—his muscled waist just slightly narrower than would be expected, the thin surgical scar on his chest, his hips flat against her palms.  When his underwear was off, the look in his eyes was almost insolent, challenging her to say something.  She did her best to look like his two-inch clit, already starting to strain against its hood, was nothing she hadn’t seen before, and refused to give him the satisfaction.

This was going to be _very_ good. 

* * *

 

Sam didn’t dare think.  He hadn’t actually done this, since he transitioned.  Actually, looking in awe at the half-naked Russian assassin kneeling over him, and at the tangle of biologically enhanced soldier on the floor, he had never done anything even _remotely_ like this _ever_.  Probably nobody had, ever.  Nope.  Impossible.  Probably wasn’t even happening now.

His internal monologue was still babbling when he realized she was holding his hand in a way which, while not painful, could easily become painful very quickly, a warning look in her eyes.  He realized hazily that he had been reaching out to touch her again.  Maybe he shouldn’t do that.  But _fuck_ , she was beautiful.

She leaned in next to him, almost conspiratorially, but still holding him so he didn’t dare move.  She was _beautiful_ , and she was _terrifying_ , and when her knee pushed into his naked leg and her hair brushed against his shoulder he could hear his heart beating in his ears and didn’t know whether he ought to throw himself at her or run away.

“Those two,” she said, nodding towards Steve and Bucky, “are going to hold you down, because you can’t be trusted.  But first—Soldier, strip him.”  Talking to Sam, she had sounded almost friendly, though with a threatening edge.  When she addressed Bucky, her voice cracked like a whip.  There might be some unresolved issues there—or, maybe, this was their way of resolving them.

Either way, the warmth with which Bucky had been caressing Steve evaporated when she spoke, replaced with something rough and powerful.  Twisting out of Steves arms and to his feet with a practiced agility, he gripped Steve by the shirt collar and pulled him up with him, then close, until they were nose-to-nose, Bucky sneering coldly up at his old friend, Steve looking like he was about to swoon.

Then Bucky was pulling Steve’s shirt over his head, roughly, clumsily, threatening to rip it in his hurry.  When he finally got it off, he stared at Steve for what seemed like ages.  Where the Winter Soldier looked—appropriately—like he had been stitched together by mad scientists, Captain America was flawless.  His skin did not scar, did not leave any evidence of the wars he’d been through.  The Soldier surveyed him impassively, and then—something broke, in his eyes.  He reached his hand out to cup Steve’s cheek, then let out something that was partway between a moan and a sob, tangled his hand in Steve’s hair, and pulled him roughly into a kiss.

They kissed desperately.  The release that went through both of them was visceral, even for Sam, watching, unable to move, in stunned silence.  They clawed at each other, Bucky standing on his toes to press himself more tightly against Steve, rubbing his naked groin against Steve’s very tight-looking fly.  They broke apart for air eventually, and Natasha cleared her throat.  When Bucky glanced over at her, she just said, “Pants.”

Obediently, he started to pull at Steve’s waistband.  His single arm was rough and clumsy again, but all trace of harshness had left his eyes for now, and Steve couldn’t seem to help grinning when he looked at him, flushed and giddy.

While they fumbled and pawed at each other like schoolchildren, Natasha let go of Sam’s hand.  Instead, she ran it down his stomach, over his pelvis, stopping when her fingers touched his pubic bone, and started to knead—gently, experimentally—at the place where the nerves of his clit began.  Every touch sent a flash of warmth through him, and he started to relax, sinking into the couch.  He started to think that maybe, yes, this was actually happening: to him, for real, and everything.  He watched as Bucky finally managed to unzip Steve’s pants and paused, momentarily distracted by the bulge of Steve’s cock in his underwear.  Sam noticed that Bucky was already half-hard again as well, which was probably some sort of a serum thing.  As Bucky pulled Steve’s pants down, making sure to touch as much of his legs as possible in the process, Sam couldn’t stand it anymore, and lifted a hand to touch _just_ Nat’s bra, not her skin, not the breast inside it, just the edge of her bra where it lifted away from her skin, his fingers trembling with the temptation to go further.  She didn’t stop him, just smirked and pressed her hand firmly against the base of his clit, making him moan.  She held her hand there, pushing, until he could feel his own pulse throbbing under her hand and couldn’t do anything but cling to the arm of the couch and push against her hand, desperate.

Then Bucky had Steve’s underwear off, and everyone looked with interest at Steve’s dick, which proved not to disappoint.  Sam might not have been an expert on penis size, but Captain America was _big_.  Bucky put his hand on Steve’s ass and turned him to face Sam and Nat, looking oddly proud.  He stood half behind Steve, nuzzling at his neck and looking sideways at Natasha, expectant, waiting for orders, but with a new air of cockiness.  Steve seemed weirdly bashful, looking shyly at Sam and Natasha as if seeking approval.

Instead, Nat only smiled a very predatory smile and stood, releasing Sam, who suddenly found it much easier to breathe.  “Pin him,” she told the naked soldiers, and they did, holding his arms secure against the couch.  “Legs, as well,” Natasha demanded, and they obliged, Steve digging his fingers into Sam’s thigh to pull his legs open and hold him, Bucky entangling one of his legs with his own.  Steve followed suit, freeing his other hand to trace wonderingly over Sam’s chest—contoured by surgery rather than secret military science, but almost as impressively muscled as Steve’s own.   His cock had ended up lying on Sam’s leg, and Sam’s breath was coming in shallow pants again.  On his other side, half of Bucky’s body was pressed against him, their faces inches apart.  Sam looked at him, and Bucky’s eyes were gleaming mischievously.  He leaned in and bit Sam’s ear, lightly, and Sam’s whole body spasmed, but he couldn’t move.

Apparently satisfied with her human restraints, Natasha started towards Sam, then paused, and, with excruciating slowness, _finally_ reached behind her back to unhook her bra.  She let it fall at her feet, then leaned over Sam, putting one knee between his legs and the other between him and Steve.  Slowly, gracefully, she pressed her body against his.  When her nipples brushed his chest he shivered and arched his himself towards her, straining at the tangle of limbs holding him captive.  Her skin was soft on his chest, her fingers nimble as they traced his neck and shoulders, but he could feel that she was hard as steel at the core.  Her crotch brushed against his hip, and she moaned deep in her throat and _pushed_ against him, and he pushed back, and then her hand had slipped down between his thighs, exploring his labia, finding him dripping and ready.

She entered him, two fingers, and he gasped.  Her fingers moved inside him and it made him struggle helplessly, his hips bucking as waves of fire broke across his pelvis.  Then she pushed the heel of her hand hard against his clit, digging her fingers into the front of his vagina, making his vision go blurry, and, for a split second, he didn’t know which way was up, whether he was flying or falling.  She rocked her hand against him, pushing with her knee to help her fingers thrust deeper inside him, and when he couldn’t take it anymore she relaxed her grip on him and brought her other hand down to stroke his throbbing clit, holding it between two fingers, squeezing and rubbing against the sides.  At some point, Bucky, still tangled in Sam’s leg and pinning him to the couch, started to thrust against his side, apparently involuntarily, and his lips touched Sam’s neck, and then he half bit and half kissed with a ferocity that made Sam’s head spin.  Steve’s fingers ended up in his mouth, and he was sucking them to keep himself from crying out when fuzzy electricity hummed through his entire body, and the heat in his loins was unbearable, and he felt himself contract around Natasha’s fingers, which gave one final thrust as he came, nearly managing to wrench himself free from the arms and legs around him as he twisted in their grip, but then he fell, limp and gasping as the last aftershocks of his orgasm left him.

Steve and Bucky relaxed their grips on him, and the four of them stayed like that for a few minutes, Sam light-headed and panting, Nat looking smug, and the soldiers staring at each other like every moment they weren’t touching was causing them physical pain.

Still, when Natasha stood up and told them not to move, they stayed put.

* * *

 

Nat hurried back to her room of the apartment—not really intended to be a bedroom, but serviceable, with an air mattress on the floor and a duffle bag in the corner that contained everything she thought necessary for covert operations.  She pulled out a belt of throwing knives and left ammunition cartridges scattered on the floor before finding a new bottle of lube, which she had bought knowing that the American idiot and his repressed puppy lover would be needing it eventually.

When she returned, they seemed to be cradling Sam between them only to keep themselves from lunging at each other.  She tapped them both on the shoulders.  “You two,” she showed them the bottle, “are going to work out your issues, and _you_ ,” she said to Sam, “are going to do something for me now.”

Steve and Bucky stood, detaching themselves from Sam, and Bucky grabbed the lube out of her hand.  He then seemed to realize he couldn’t do much with it, holding it in his only hand, and Steve laughed, breathless, took it from him, and squeezed some out onto Bucky’s hand, which then started to rub it over Steve’s cock.

Natasha watched them and started pulling off her slacks, aware of Sam’s gaze flicking between her and the soldiers, pawing desperately at each other in the middle of the room.  She let them fall unceremoniously, and peeled off her slightly damp panties, which she dropped pointedly at Sam’s feet.  He looked up at her with absolute willingness in his eyes, and she smiled.

Keeping one eye on Steve, who had gotten Bucky on his back on the floor with his legs in the air and was now tentatively massaging Bucky’s asshole with his fingers, Nat reclined sideways on the couch, still wearing her little kitten heels, leaning her back on the arm and opening her legs.  She crooked a finger at Sam, who immediately lay down between her legs and put his mouth on her cunt, digging his hands into her thighs in his relief at finally being permitted to touch her.

Sam’s hands were insistent but his tongue was gentle—so gentle, she thought she might not be able to come from this, but she wasn’t in a hurry—as he licked slowly against her clit, making her sigh.  She rested a hand on his shoulder and only then did she notice that Sam had tattoos—the fucker had angel wings trailing down from his shoulder blades to his lower back, black outlines on dark skin, rippling over his muscles as he gripped her legs harder and pushed his mouth against her.

Natasha heard Bucky cry out in pain, and looked just in time to see Steve freeze, the tip of his cock just barely inside Bucky’s ass, looking terrified.  She heard Bucky gasp, begging him not to stop—but he said it in Russian, so it took Steve a moment to realize he was okay.  But then he gripped Bucky by the waist and slowly pushed himself in, whimpering as Bucky gasped.  When his hips met Bucky’s ass, he paused, and Bucky reached up and barely managed to kiss him before falling backwards, so Steve held him by the shoulder with one hand and kissed his neck, then bit it, and started to thrust desperately.  The other hand he wrapped around Bucky’s cock.  They gripped each other with a ferocity which would have injured normal men, and fucked with superhuman strength.

Natasha watched them and put a hand on the back of Sam’s head, pushing him hard against her.  He took the hint and started to work more urgently at her clit, sucking it into his mouth, holding it between his lips, licking hard and fast.  _God bless this boy_ , she thought as she moaned, digging her heel into the back of the couch and shutting her eyes.  _I’m keeping him_.

She was so wrapped in electric bliss she didn’t quite register a sudden cry from the floor, then a grunt, and then moaning, and panting, and a sudden decrease in movement.  She only realized Steve and Bucky had finished with each other when she felt three more hands on her, two pulling the hair out of her face, one tentatively brushing against her breasts.

She opened her eyes to see Steve hanging over her, looking serene, and Bucky, relaxed, sitting beside her on the floor, his hand dancing along her torso.  She tried to say something biting, dominatrix-y, but her mind was a haze.

Then, for a split second, she was afraid.  She was trapped between three men, every ounce of her training telling her to run, but she didn’t know if she could get out if she needed to, didn’t think she could take on all of them—Sam must have sensed something, because he looked up, concern in his eyes, and when he did, Steve and Bucky froze as well, giving her questioning looks.  A wave of affection rushed over her, making her paranoia seem foolish, and suddenly their hands on her only made her feel safe.

She pressed her face into Steve’s hand, arched her back to press her chest against Bucky’s.  “Don’t stop,” she whispered, and Steve leaned down to bite, gently, on her ear, then kiss her cheek.

 _Keeping you_ , she thought, as Bucky bent to kiss her chest and Sam lapped slow and hard against her clit.  _All of you_.


End file.
